


His Wife

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Burp Kink, Burps, Corophilia, Diarrhea, Eproctophilia, F/M, Farting, Feeding, Food Kink, Hamilton is a gassy dad and Eliza fucking loves it, Hamiltum, Maledom, Maledom/Femsub, Scat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hamilton has gastrointestinal issues. That is to say, he's the kind of gassy where any single fart is a risk taken. And Eliza? She's into it.





	1. Chapter 1

Hamilton had chugged far too many carbonated drinks earlier. And ate equally as many slimy slabs of cooked meats. Writhing in his bed, he pitied his wife Eliza, who was forced to experience him assaulting her with gas. He released and immediately stifled a large, hiccup-y belch before rolling around. “Sorry, Eliza,” he whimpered in embarrassment. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re just a tad gassy,” she said comfortingly, her hands reaching under his shirt and rubbing along his bloated belly. Her groomed and lustred fingers tickled along the hair follicles in a patch around his belly button. Each gentle pat of her clean hands prompted a new bubble within his stomach to sizzle, and his intestines to groan. 

Suddenly, Hamilton sat up, his belly flab hanging over a bit of his groin. He brought a fist to his bearded jaw, covering his wet lips. Concealing a powerful and unpreventable belch, he moaned, “Oh Eliza, _*OUUURP!*_ How it hurts…” There was more tension in his colon, and she heard it squeeze and stretch in a gassy distress.

“Alexander…” Eliza said in a wavering supportive voice, suppressing a bit of arousal that she derived from these emissions. She sat up as well, gazing sensually at Hamilton’s clothed buttocks. 

They suddenly squeezed together to emit a rippling, bubbly blast -- a fart that made Hamilton extremely humiliated. Its wetness had dampened the ass of his trousers enough to concern him. “I must use the r-restroom,” Hamilton said as he tightly walked away.

“Let me come,” Eliza said so kindly. But the kindness was a facade that hid the ugly fact of her fetish. And how she wished to exploit it, exploit Hamilton; feeding him questionable items, overfeeding him, luxuriously pampering him in his gassy, bloated states. It was all a part of her plan to desensitize him to being what she considered the sexiest man alive.

Hamilton’s forehead shiny with sweat, he pleaded, “No, Eliza, you mustn't see nor hear what is about to happen.” He continued slowly waddling away in his likely soiled tan twill pants. 

“But I want to, and I want to comfort you,” she finally confessed after all this time, shame filling her cheeks. 

Surprised, and unsure how to interpret the strange remark, Hamilton replied, “Fine then. Come along.”

She cheerily ran after him into their bathroom, leaving the sheets of satin messy and disorganized. She kneeled by the toilet he now sat on, smiling far too enthusiastically. Hamilton grunted as he and his protruding belly collapsed to the toilet seat. His exposed tummy was lit with rosy pink, from the blush of it being rubbed by tight fabric, shut in all day. Eliza unbuttoned and removed his shirts, happily looking into his eyes. 

“Thank you, Eliza dearest,” he whispered, grabbing ahold of her hand and clutching it. His intestines gave a rumbling, agonizing gurgle right as he did. His eyes widened and his smile dropped, before he whispered an apology, “Ohhhh… it’s bad… please, forgive me.” His guts unraveled and re-tied themselves into complex knots as the first burst of greasy, hot shit shot out of his puckered asshole and echoed within the toilet bowl.

“Mmmmm,” Eliza whiffed it as though it were ambrosia, her hand reaching down to her moistening vagina. Hamilton saw this, his tummy squeezing and aching. It all made sense to him at this point. How she bowed down to his tummy and loved its flabbiness and size. How she always gave him so much food and encouraged him to eat enough that his stomach would be snug. How she always seemed to need to pee right after his morning and nighttime shits. How that one eve, when he was stricken with the worst diarrhea, he swore he saw her shadow in the space under the bathroom door. Smelling and savoring his rotting, filthy feces. 

“Eliza, you poor housewife, you’ve been raised improper,” he said piteously of her, his anus contracting with another bout of liquidy shit. Following the sound of the streams hitting the water and already-defecated shit, a tight, uncomfortable fart came out of his asshole. Greatly distraught by his pity, but still aroused, Eliza’s vaginal fingering slowed. “Check my underwear here. Do they need cleaning?” Hamilton asked, lifting the underwear he’d been wearing off and over to her.

A large shit stain painted the back, and she nearly convulsed with temptation. “Y-Yes,” she stammered in humiliation, seeing that he took joy in watching her do this. 

“Clean them. With your natural resources. But first, kiss me,” Hamilton said in his newly claimed role of domination. Getting up, Eliza faced Hamilton and looked him in the eyes, shivering with a mix of anticipation and delight. Slowly, her face got close to that of her shitting husband, closing in with a doe-eyed stare. As soon as she was close enough to smell his breath, he intimately belched into her face and nostrils. “I… loooooove… yooouuuu,” Hamilton burped into her nose, the smell drifting odorously. Her vagina had never been so wet before.

Soon after, their lips pressed together in a concentration of love and sensuality. The pureness of their kiss was accented by Eliza’s supple, wrinkled hand caressing Hamilton’s large, chubby belly, her other hand tousling his slightly greasy hair. His tongue lapped at her lips and opened her mouth, teasing at her own salivating tongue. Her legs quaked as she approached orgasm, which was only brought as his mouth released an enormous, frothy burp into her. The tangy taste and vibrations made her knees buck. 

Eliza forced her head away, having came the first time, and planning to do it again. She dizzily panted at the amount of energy she expended on those vigorous kisses to Hamilton. “I’ll get to cleaning now,” Eliza huffed dreamily.

In a confident and prideful tone, Hamilton said at the same time he blasted the toilet with a long, grating fart, “Good. Hurry to it then.” 

She felt she had conquered the primal urge by joining with it, conceding to the disgusting voice inside. She would never appreciate anything more than Hamilton playing along with her absolutely disgusting sexual fantasy.


	2. It Gets Grosser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, there's shit-eating/tasting. I'm sorry.

Hamilton leaned forward, watching his wife Eliza lap into his filthy underwear. She desperately slid her tongue along the streak of shit in the middle. It simultaneously reeked of rancid feces and manly musk. Her tongue went over and over it multiple times -- she meekly looked up at her husband sat on the throne. 

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked her as his ass seized and spurted out more into the toilet bowl. He gave a feverish sigh of satisfaction at the release. 

Eliza nodded, swallowing faintly before she faltered, “Yes, Alexander, I very much am.” Her erotic dream had finally been realized in the bathroom with her husband, who was constantly spewing sickly, brown gunk from his ass. 

“Truthfully?” He asked in disbelief. Hamilton was confounded anyone, especially Elizabeth Schuyler, could be satiated by such crude and unnatural things. As she seemed to finish removing the splotch of shit from his underwear, Eliza nodded. She licked her depraved, dirtied lips, no longer the pinnacle of formal femininity. 

“I can’t be anymore truthful,” Eliza whispered with a sinister smile. “Are you finished?” She had a certain look in her eye, like that of a predator animal eyeing its prey. 

“Hmph, not _*OUUURP!*_ N-Not yet,” Hamilton answered as his cheeks bashfully pinkened at the unexpected roaring belch. Although it was evident that Eliza had only enjoyed it; understanding that Eliza was aroused by these things was a struggle for him. Always, he had interpreted her reactions to his flatulence and burping as simply tolerant. Reconstructing this affirmation was really hard for him. 

“Why?” Hamilton suddenly asked as his bowels squirmed with trepidation for this final bout. 

“Why… do I like it?” Eliza asked for clarification. 

“Yes, Eliza.”

“Well…” She shyly played with the rank trousers she still held. Beaming, she looked up with broken, averted eye contact, and said, “It’s just so unclean, Alexander. I feel so dirty in the best way when I smell, when I see, when I hear and feel you being so… unclean.”

It didn’t exactly make Hamilton happy in the aspect of self-image. In some weird way, he did find himself utterly flattered. “Did someone make you this way?” He asked seriously, worried for his wife at the revelation.

“No, no one made me,” she replied, intently gazing at the meat of his cheeks on the seat.

 _Gooooouuuuurgh!_ Hamilton’s stomach groaned right as he slapped his hands on nearby surfaces and clutched tight. Eliza kept her intent gaze fixed on this, listening to and viewing his intestinal struggle. Seconds after he gripped for dear mercy, the loudest and most powerful squirt Eliza had ever heard in her life expelled itself from Hamilton’s queasy ass. “Ohhhhh…” Hamilton wheezed, feeling that it was finally over, the remaining airy farts squeezing from his asshole. 

“Hm,” Eliza hummed at the smell, enduring the sewage somehow coming from Hamilton’s bloated belly. 

“I need toilet paper,” Hamilton said when she thought he’d never ask. A finger of hers finally inserted back into her vagina, seeing the perfect opening to begin massaging her unruly clitoris. He raised his ass off of the greasy, currently unflushed toilet.

“Wait! D-Don’t flush,” Eliza requested, concerning her more than concerned husband. 

He shrugged it off anyway. “Get it nice and good,” he advised Eliza as he turned around in her lowered face. She gawked at the puckered pink star that was his exhausted anus, and admired the layer of sludge stuck to it and the nearby cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, she closed her face in, first huffing the profoundly rancid scent, before kissing into the anus in powerful horniness.

She gave strong licks to the gooey, oozing anus, prompting moans from Hamilton as he massaged his own member, unexpectedly aroused by this. Without warning, he let out a supremely filthy wet fart in her face. Wordlessly she expressed her gratefulness by continuing to keep at his asshole. It recoiled at her tongue’s liveliness at times, spitting out small squirts of hot diarrheal feces into her mouth and smothering her lower face. 

After a while, she had come about three times, finished cleaning the cavity and surrounding hairy cheeks. “Thank you, Eliza,” Hamilton gasped. He had never known that something so unthinkably grotesque would be so sexy to him. 

“Please. I have never, ever wanted anything more,” Eliza admitted in her ethereal state of euphoria. This moment, she decided, would never escape her memories. She’d catalogue those horrible tastes and scents to fuel fantasies for years to come. “I’m not done yet,” Eliza chirped, still holding his undergarments as she reached them into the toilet, dipping them into the fine pile of intestinal sauce Hamilton’s ass had prepared. He winced at the sight of his wife performing such a disgusting thing, seeing her scoop all of his shit into the inside of his underwear. Once she removed them from the toilet, her pleading eyes met his, and she begged, “Wear this to bed with me.”

So many thoughts ran through his mind. Thoughts of how this would be uncomfortable, thoughts of how Eliza was being irrational, thoughts of how this would ruin their expensive sheets. He brooded for a moment until he noticed something that ceased his meandering mind. A growing erection, not concealed or hidden whatsoever. Apparent to himself and Eliza. “My sweet Eliza, of course,” he cooed as he took them from her graciously. Sloppy, squishy shit stuck to his ass and thighs as he put the garment back on. It felt hot in more ways than one. 

In the bed, the laid down together, Eliza stroking a hand inside the scat-filled underwear. She fingered his restless ass and used another hand to jerk his member. Joyful, bliss with the execution of a long awaited fetish session -- Eliza departed to bed after coming two more times. 

Hamilton was sweating and worriedly staring off in the distance, listening to the peaceful snores of his wife. _I have a disgusting new fetish,_ he mused in silent anguish.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please leave comments if you want this continued.


End file.
